


In Memoriam

by Brookeks



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Coldflash Winter Gift Exchange 2017, Established Relationship, Falling In Love, M/M, Memory Loss, Minor Cisco Ramon/Lisa Snart, Minor Ray Palmer/Mick Rory, Witch Curses, well a little angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-12 04:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12951516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brookeks/pseuds/Brookeks
Summary: After Len is hit by a spell by this week’s villain, he is left with his memory being a little modified—meaning he can’t remember that he’s in a relationship with Barry. Following the dramatic events, Len tries to figure out what is real and what is not, while Barry tries to make Len love him again like he did before. But the road is bumpy, and along the ride, they both wonder if all of it is even worth the effort.





	In Memoriam

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LegendsofSnark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegendsofSnark/gifts).



> After you read the summary you might think that this is incredibly angsty and depressing, but let me tell you, it’s not. Okay, it’s a little depressing, but I think it kind of has to be with that trope. Which, now, brings me to why I am even writing this. This fic is my contribution to the Winter Gift Exchange for the lovely LegendsOfSnark. The prompt I chose was “Memory Loss (preferably Len)” so that’s what you can expect this story to be about. (And other things. But I don’t want to spoil them beforehand, so…)
> 
> I know this probably isn’t what you were expecting when you thought of this prompt, but I hope you’ll like what I made of it anyway. I had a lot of fun writing this, and it gave me many possibilities of how this all should go down which was so, so, so nice to work with.  
> Gotta say, though, I didn’t intend to make it this angsty when I started to flesh out the plot, but then I got to actually writing all this… well. It just… sort of happened? And it wouldn’t go away? And, to be frank, I think it fits the trope quite well. Anyway, I hope you like it. <3
> 
>  **Additional warning:** There is one tiny mention of abuse (nothing major, not relevant to the plot), and violence due to homophobia (indirectly mentioned). It is nothing major, in neither cases, but I thought I should mention this beforehand regardless.

 

The yelling and shouting, being unmistakeable sounds of a battle, have been the only ones in Len’s ear for one hour and thirty-six minutes now, and it slowly but surely was giving him a headache.

Also, his muscles were starting to protest loudly, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep the fighting up without his arm freezing off entirely caused by the ice cold emissions of his gun.

Also, he knew now that there probably wasn’t anything else he hated more than witches.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a green jet of light speed towards him, and it was a testament to his tiredness and exhaustion that he didn’t manage to duck in time. Luckily, his boyfriend was a speedster.

“You okay?” Barry asked as he helped him up from the ground again where they had inevitably landed after Barry had crashed into him and saving him last second from turning into a frog or something.

“Gotta say, this is not how I expected our first free evening in months to go down.”

Barry huffed, and the corners of his mouth formed a weak smile. “Yeah, me neither. We still can do Netflix and chill later, though.”

“If that crazy bitch hasn’t killed us first.” Another jet of lighting that soared past him with a loud _whoosh_. Angrily, he fired his cold gun in the direction where the spell had come from, but after nearly two hours of fighting, he knew that the witch was too quick and the beam of cold wouldn’t even get near her. And she still had that force field around her that reflected everything they were throwing at her.

Oh, how he hated witches.

“We got this.” Barry flashed him a smile before he sped off, continuing to force the witch to the lakeshore where they could corner her and then maybe—hopefully—finally apprehend her.

That, at least, had been the plan. Their small team, consisting of him, Barry, Lisa, Mick, Ray, Wally, and Cisco, were trying their best to catch the woman who had been wreaking havoc in the city the past week, a witch from a small coven participating in Dark Magic. Corner her, cut off all her exits, and then put on the collar Cisco had managed to create with a little help from his friends (apparently, the Green Arrow knew someone who dealt with magic). Easy-peasy.

Only that the spells she was firing around were turning every patch of grass into a rotten piece of mould where they hit the ground. They just simply weren’t able to get closer to her than a few feet’s distance, but it just wasn’t enough. Nothing seemed to be able to penetrate the force field around her.

“What if,” he heard Caitlin’s strained voice over the comms, “we manage to create a force field ourselves that can counter hers? So they cancel each other off?”

“And how exactly do you want to accomplish that?” Len asked back, and he couldn’t for the love of all that was holy keep the sarcasm and bitterness out of his voice. It was not as if they hadn’t thought of that before. It just didn’t seem to work.

He was so tired and done with this shit. All he wanted to do was to collapse at home on his couch, or bed, with Barry next to him, and never get up again. Maybe Len could convince him to take the rest of the week off, compensate for their bust of an evening only for the two of them in months.

“I think I figured out what the field is made off.”

Now that was some good news for once.

Len rushed forward again, ducked, and fired. Missed again, of course.

“Maybe if we—”

But what exactly they could do, Len didn’t find out. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his left side, a burning so intense he sunk to his knees, clutching his ribcage. Somewhat distant, he heard Lisa screaming his name, and saw, also somewhat blurred, as if it wasn’t real, Barry’s lightning flashing towards him.

The last thing he thought was that he was probably getting too old for playing hero. Maybe he should retire, with Barry at his side. They’d have enough time for their wedding plans then after he would have managed to gather the courage to propose.

Then everything turned black.

 

***

 

Consciousness only slowly returned to him, like a gentle sunrise in the morning. Maybe the first thing Len realized was that he must be at a hospital of some sorts, as he was lying on something soft (a bed, his hazy mind supplied), with his head cushioned and a quite comfortable blanket lying on top of him. Distantly, he could hear voices, but they were too far away for him to make out what they were saying.

Carefully, he tried to open his eyes. The room was brightly lit, looking medical, but most certainly not like Central City General Hospital.

“Len,” he heard a soft whisper next to him. He turned his head to see Barry Allen sitting next to him.

Hm. Odd.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Groggy.” His muscles were aching, and slowly memories of the battle came back to him. “What happened?”

“The witch. She hit you with one of her spells.” His voice sounded so sad, and with a note of desperate relief in it. Still odd. Did he hit his head that bad or why did it sound as if The Flash cared about him?

“No shit. I meant the fight. Did you manage to get her, in the end?”

“Wh—oh, yeah, we did.”

Len nodded. “Good.”

“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Caitlin Snow’s voice rang through the air. Len turned his head toward his left where she came hurrying through the glass door of S.T.A.R. Labs’ med bay, his sister right behind her. Behind them, Len could make out the figures of five persons, standing in a loose circle, all turned towards him. Cisco was amongst them.

Odd.

“How are you feeling?” Caitlin asked him while pointing a small flashlight towards his eyes to check his pupillary light reflex. When she was seemingly satisfied, she continued with checking his auscultation. Only now Len realized that he was apparently shirtless, four electrodes sticking onto his chest, checking his electrocardiogram, and a blood pressure cuff around his left biceps. Also, he had an IV access in his right hand.

Apparently, he had been pretty out of it. “I’m fine,” he replied, ignoring the odd feeling as if something just wasn’t right.

And why was his boyfriend still standing over there and didn’t come over to check on him? They should have a talk on near-death experiences soon.

“You’ve been hit by one of the witch’s spells. You immediately passed out. Barry managed to catch you before you hit your head on the ground, but the blow was still pretty hard. He brought you here immediately, where I checked for any injuries or anomalies and such, but I’ve found nothing so far.”

“So basically I’m one hundred percent fine and healthy.”

“Yes, so far.”

“Thanks, Doc.” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed but found himself gently being pushed back again by Barry.

What was up with the kid today?

“Len, no, you’ve got to rest, okay? Besides, just because there isn’t any physical damage doesn’t mean there might be some neurological problem.”

“Kid, I’m fine. Stop worrying so much.” He shook his head.

“He’s right, you know. Let me at least do a CT to check if there really is everything okay or if there is something going on in your brain we haven’t found out yet.”

Len glanced over to where Cisco was standing, talking animatedly to Ray.

“Just do it, Lenny,” now his sister chimed in. She had been unusually quiet, standing behind Caitlin and just observing the scene. Her face was pale and she looked tired.

With a put-upon sigh, he agreed. “Fine, if you must, whatever.”

He could think of a lot of things he’d rather do right now. He felt awake enough to remember the details of the fight now and to actually feel his aching and tired muscles. Maybe some sleep with his boyfriend who still hadn’t come over to check on him.

Caitlin nodded and turned to leave the room, likely to prepare everything for the scan. “And tell my boyfriend I’m not waiting all day for him to come over and check on me.”

Abruptly, she stopped, turned around and gave him the strangest look.

“But, Len,” Barry said, “I’m sitting right next to you.”

Now, out of all the bullshit Len had heard over the last few years—hell, including all the stuff he had learned since had actually time traveled, this might be topping all of it. “What?” was the only thing he managed to say in this moment.

“Len... It’s me? Barry? We’ve been together for nearly two years now?” Carefully, he put his hand on top of Len’s.

Maybe it was out of instinct, maybe just because this situation was so confusing and felt as if he was losing the control he tried to pretend to have. But as soon as Barry Allen’s skin touched his, he tore away his hand as if burned. Barry’s expression turned from incredulous to hurt in less than a second.

“Kid, what the hell are you talking about?”

“What do you mean?” His voice sounded pleading, and Len almost felt bad for the kid. (Maybe he did a little.) “Len, love, come on. You… you gotta remember that we’re together. One just doesn’t forget this. Right?” He turned towards Caitlin. “Right?” he now asked her.

“Why don’t we run some tests, see what he remembers,” Caitlin suggested, her voice forced to sound casual.

Barry didn’t answer, he just stared straight ahead of him. Len felt sorry for him, knowing he was responsible for the Scarlet Speedster looking like a beaten puppy. He focused on Caitlin again. “Great idea.”

She nodded while walking towards the cortex where the others were still waiting. “Let me just—” She gestured towards the others before she hurried off to get them, too, making the room a little too crowded for Len’s taste. “Okay, so. What day is it today?”

Len snorted. “Friday, December 8, 2017.”

“Correct. Where are we?”

“At S.T.A.R. Labs, in your somewhat creepy med bay.”

“President of the United States?”

“Donald Trump, for some reason.” Len wouldn’t have been too sad to forget that one little fact.

“Your birthday?” Lisa chimed in.

“December twenty-first.”

Cisco snorted, and Len looked at him with amusement. “I can’t believe your birthday is on the day of the winter solstice.”

This made him frown. “You know my birthday is on that day.”

A deep frown was spreading on Cisco’s features. Barry was broken out of his trance-like state and looked at him in bewilderment. “Dude, no, how should I know?”

What was up with all of them today? “Because we’ve been dating for one and three quarters of a year now?”

The silence that followed that statement was deafening.

Lisa was the first to break it. “Lenny, dear, what are you talking about?” She let out a little laugh, her nervousness so obvious in her voice he was seriously starting to wonder what the fuck was going on at the moment.

“What do you mean, what am I talking about?” The right side of his forehead began to ache, feeling a migraine forming. Great.

Cisco blinked, looking as shocked as the rest of them. “Dude, we’re not dating.”

Len laughed because this was getting ridiculous. “So I just happened to have imaged the past six hundred and forty-eight days?”

“Okay, that’s enough, cut the act, man. This is getting weird.”

“It’s not an act.” He sat up straighter, staring at every person present in the room for a good second before he proceeded. “We got together on the twenty-ninth of February last year, after me taking you for dinner and you spectacularly losing playing pool against me.” A little bit of anger bubbled up inside of him, making its way through his veins. Whatever they were playing at, this surely wasn’t funny. It hurt.

Next to him, heard a choking sound. Barry was as pale as a sheet, his eyes wide and with a frightened and scared and hurt look about them. “Len,” he breathed, and Len wondered how one person could manage to put so many emotions at once in one single word. “That’s… that was _our_ first date. That’s how _we_ have gotten together.”

Slowly, almost in slow motion even, Len shook his head. “No.” Because this just couldn’t be right. He—he was together with Cisco, his boyfriend who he loved more than anything in this world. How could Cisco—how could they have forgotten that?

Or did he really just think it was like that? Did the blow of the witch’s spell affect him that much?

But that couldn’t be. That just… couldn’t. He knew what was real and was not, and his time with Cisco, his life with Cisco, his feelings for Cisco… they were all so very real.

“Len, please,” Barry now whined, and he sounded so desperate, it nearly made Len’s heartache. “You… This can’t be happening. You have to remember. Us, you and me—we’re real.”

“But it’s not real to me.” Cisco was real.

Several people in the room seemed to gasp simultaneously. Len, however, tried to focus on Barry entirely, trying to make it clear to him that no, that couldn’t be real. He had to see it, too, had to know it was nonsense.

They had never gotten on as well as Len had always hoped they would. When he and Cisco had started dating—funny, what a little kidnapping could do to one’s social life—and he and Barry had then later had their talk and had formed their… tentative truce in that forest, he had started to keep tabs on Team Flash. With Cisco, he immediately had gotten along like a house on fire, not only was the kid incredibly smart and funny and shared the same kind of humor, he also had this special taste in music and film, something Len had learned to appreciate a lot. It hadn’t taken long for them to get on so well they had started to meet regularly for movie marathons (and eventually for more).

With Barry, however, things had always been difficult. There always was a tension between them, mistrust, and spite, and he never quite got over Len kidnapping his friends (unlike said friends). Barry’s look as soon as he saw him was usually strained, and it seemed to Len that the Flash considered himself to be above working with former criminals, even if it was for a common good. (And apparently, it didn’t even matter that Mick and he and the rest of the Legends had saved all of time itself.)

“Guys, could you please give us a minute of privacy?” Barry hadn’t turned around to look at them and rather kept staring at Len, his eyes pleading and full of tears.

“Of course, Barry.”

As soon as everyone had left, Barry took a deep breath, looking as if he was bracing himself for something. “Okay, so, what is it that you… remember as being real?”

“Like I said. Cisco and I got together three years ago, after going to Saints and Sinners for dinner.”

Barry nodded. “And other than that? Other than related to our… I mean, to your relationship.”

“We’re living in a horrendous time for transgender people, who have more and more of their rights taken away on a daily basis, as well as any queer person, thanks to the dear president. Smoking cigarettes isn’t considered a sociable trait anymore. The swing to the right in most democratic countries is becoming more severe, too many right-wing parties have gained too much power over the last few years. Julius Caesar was stabbed twenty-three times, although only one stab was fatal.”

That got a laugh out of Barry, and Len felt a little relieved as he saw the sad face light up a bit. “Yeah, you’re right, but that’s not what I meant. I was thinking… maybe you’ve got retrograde amnesia from the blow when the witch hit you with her spell. That means you’re like to remember general things, like history and stuff, but—”

“But no personal information, yes, I’m aware.”

Barry nodded.

Len tilted his head a little, trying to let his mind wander. “Lisa is eight years younger than me. She was born the year we had the coldest winter ever. Two years later, our grandfather died. That’s when…” he trailed off. That’s when the beating had started, when things got a lot worse than just occasional slaps and hits. But he didn’t want to say that out loud. It had taken him ages and a lot of trust to even tell Cisco about it. Telling Barry was out of question.

Yet, by the loom on the other’s face, he knew what it was that Len didn’t want to say out loud.

“I met Mick in juvie when I was fourteen. He saved me from getting my head bashed in by an older guy who thought I was staring at his crotch. After we got out, we did a few jobs together, and at some point, we left the city together. Lisa never forgave me for leaving her, but we had to get a little money first, making sure we managed to survive. Then we came back and took her with us. My father was furious.” He remembered, all too vividly, what had happened when Lewis had found out Len had eloped a second time, this time with his sister. Pity the fight with the witch hadn’t changed those memories.

“So, memories that are at least twenty years old haven’t changed. That’s a good thing at least, right?”

“Depends on your definition of good.”

Barry just shrugged. “I guess so. What else do you remember?”

“I remember our first fight, the Flash versus Captain Cold. You managed to apprehend on me on that train.”

The look of alarm on Barry’s face told him that this, however, did not quite happen as he remembered. “No,” Barry shook his head, “it didn’t happen like that. You, well, after you shot that guy in the theatre—”

“I missed him but instead I shot you.”

“No, Len. I mean, yes, you did hit me, when I was taking the one that was aimed at Joe. But when we were in that theatre, you made a ‘test run’, as you called it, to see how fast I was. You kept trying to shoot me, then switched to aim at the citizens who were still inside the building. And then, you aimed at one of those guards, and I tried to reach him, but I failed. The guy died, frozen.”

“That’s not how I remember it. I remember hitting you, you being the idiotic hero with barely any self-preservation, throwing yourself in front of that guy. I couldn’t get the diamond that day, I lost my crew because they were too afraid of you. I wanted to get payback later on, that’s why we fought on that train. But you stopped me,” he said in a grim voice. To this day, he hadn’t gotten over the fact that he had lost his first fight against The Flash. “The CCPD wanted to send me off to prison, but I managed to escape beforehand.”

“Oh, Len. It was exactly the opposite.”

“Then how was it?” he scoffed.

Barry threw him a careful glance before he continued. “First, you tried to steal the Diamond from the armored car. I stopped you. Then, you acquired the cold gun, and you took it to the theatre downtown where—well, your only goal was to test me. You shot at Joe first, then at me, and then randomly at the other people who were still inside, seeing if I was fast enough to save them. Your only goal then was to check out my weaknesses.” 

Realization dawned on Len. “You want to save everyone. I killed that clerk, and then I knew that your true weakness was your kind heart and your hero complex.” Smart move.

Barry let out a strangled laugh. “Yeah. You said something to me along those lines when I tried to stop you on that train.”

Barry paused, and Len took the time to study him, really looking at him for the first time since he woke up again. The kid was pretty, there was no other word for it, with this fluffy hair, plush lips, and those big, green eyes. But his posture was stiff, and he looked so defeated.

“What happened then?”

“You stole the diamond, then made your way to the train station. You didn’t want to get away, at least that’s what you said. You wanted to test me again, and you derailed that train, got away while I was busy saving the lives of the people who were still in the different wagons.”

“And did you? Manage to save those lives?”

“I did.”

Len nodded. “Next?”

“You waited for me until I was done getting all those people out. You shot me, and I’m pretty sure you’d have killed me if Cisco hadn’t shown up with that fake prototype of a cold gun.”

“Geez, kid, you sure we got together? This sounds like a pretty rough piece of work to make things work out between us.”

Barry let out a somewhat strangled laugh. “We did. That was only our first confrontation. Well, the next time, you and Mick still tried to kill me—you guys kidnapped Caitlin—and the next time we faced off, you kidnapped Cisco and learned my real identity. Then we formed that truce—”

“—in the forest. Yeah, that I remember.”

Barry nodded. “You promised not to kill anyone when, in return, I left you alone. Which I mostly did, just sometimes, we faced off against each other, and the one who won got to keep the… whatever you were just stealing. Well, I gave the stuff back, while you… I guess you just kept it. Or sold it.”

“Uh-huh.” Len remembered the first time he met Cisco actually quite well, even if that was the only thing he remembered correctly from his first face-off with The Flash. He remembered the kid’s hands shaking while he was threatening to kill Len, while Len totally knew he never had it in him. But Cisco had shown courage, even in the face of imminent danger, and he hadn’t back down. Len remembered admiring him for that, having the gall to bluff, to lie, and his loyalty to protect his friend. Maybe this was when he had first fallen a bit for him.

His following encounters with the Flash… He only remembered them in bits. The kidnapping, yes. Learning who the Scarlet Speedster really was, yes. The truce, yes. But everything else was murky, distorted. Like fog was literally clouding his memory.

“But all of this doesn’t sound like an ice-breaker to me, Barry.”

“No, it wasn’t. What eventually brought us closer was when your father kidnapped you and made you help him pull a job, using Lisa as leverage by putting a bomb in her neck.”

That bastard. He did not—he did not have the audacity—

Of course he did.

A burning rage was suddenly coursing through his veins. “I killed him, right?”

“You did. You said,” and Barry made a horrible impression of Len’s voice, “’he broke my sister’s heart. Only fair I break his.’” Len snorted. But the anger ebbed away. At least he remembered that part correctly. Although it also explained why Barry knew about his… past.

“Oh! I completely forgot. Before that, I asked for your help. We wanted to transport the metas from the pipeline to Lian Yu. But you betrayed me and let the metas free.”

Len snorted. He remembered the metas fighting against the Flash, basically freeing themselves, while had to do nothing and just stood at the side, watching the spectacle. Either way, he didn’t feel sorry. “Imprisoning someone without a trial is fucked up, no matter how you looked at it. I might not remember betraying you, not like that, anyway, but I can’t say I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, it’s fine, you know. I forgave you a long time ago. Besides, now I can say I’m actually glad you freed them. It… made me realize some things about myself. And that no righteous hero should have that much control about a person’s life.”

“You’re welcome.”

The fell silent again, and Len noticed that Barry had relaxed a little. His shoulders weren’t hunched that much anymore, and he generally looked less tense.

“So what about Cisco?”

And back was the tension. “Cisco’s dating Lisa for three months now.”

Oh.

“Yeah. They… since the thing with your dad, they have been close. Getting closer, even. When we started dating—well, we were the catalyst for them to start going out, basically. They started hanging out, but somehow, they’ve been taking things really slow. Only a few months ago—when you and I moved in together, actually, they’ve called a spade a spade and made official what the rest of us had been seeing and saying for nearly a year.”

“We… live together?” His voice did not break down.

“Yeah. In an apartment, in the heart of the city.”

It was so easy for Len to close his eyes and picture it perfectly. The spacious flat, pretty large for two people, in a classic style mixed with vintage, with a big window front that offered them an amazing view over the city.

Only, when he pictured it, he saw Cisco at his side. Cisco, with whom he had decorated each room carefully. Cisco, with whom he went to bed every night. Cisco, who he woke up next to every morning.

Not Barry.

Although a lot of the décor and the ambiance of the apartment seemed to scream the speedster’s name. But Len didn’t remember him being there.

“Len?” Barry asked carefully and he didn’t have to look to know that Barry had extended his hand cautiously as if he was facing a wild and scared animal.

“I’m sorry, Barry.”

“Sorry for what?” and oh, how his voice broke, like the hopes he had that maybe, maybe telling Len about all this might make him remember again.

“I can’t… What you told me. I don’t remember it. Not like that, anyway. I don’t remember you, I don’t remember being with you. Hell, not even our encounters have happened like I remember them.”

“But… Len, I’m not lying to you or anything. What I said… it’s real. That is the reality. That’s how it happened!”

“I get it, and I believe you. I just… don’t remember. Most of it doesn’t feel right to me.”

“Len, but—” and he was actually pleading right now, “you’ve got to see that this is the truth. That this is how it really happened.”

Len sighed, and he wished he didn’t have to be so brutally honest. “Look, Barry, most of what you tell me is a lie for me. It’s reality to you. But it isn’t to me. To me, we’re not together, let alone living together,” he drawled. “And I’m sorry to disappoint, but I can’t give you that. That’s not what is real for me. That’s not what I know.” He didn’t say, _that’s not what I feel_ , but he didn’t have to. The words rung unspoken through the air, loud and clear as if he had shouted them.

Barry shrunk on himself, his shoulders hunched and his eyes so terribly open and sad and hurt. But Len still couldn’t do anything to help him.

“It’s okay, I get it.”

He let out a derisive laugh. “No, Barry, it’s far from okay. My mind is playing tricks on me, enough to make a better man go insane.” He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath. “My boyfriend isn’t even my boyfriend, but instead dating my sister. And I’m supposed to be with his best friend, the best friend I haven’t even gotten on with all that well in the past few years. Does this sound okay to you?”

“No, you’re right. It isn’t.” Abruptly, Barry turned around and walked back towards the cortex, leaving Len alone in the cold and unfriendly med bay. And seeing Barry walking away like that felt like a switch turning on in his head, with a strong feeling of déjà vu and the knowledge that there should be something there, something he should remember. But he didn’t.

 

***

 

Planning a heist was easy. Scolding at Lisa for fussing over him and ignoring her calls was easy. Yelling at Axel and Hartley to get the fuck out of the safe house and go to their own apartment to fuck each other senseless was also easy. So was baking overly large amounts of cakes and brownies.

What, however, was not easy, was dealing with the fact that apparently everything else apart from his family, his job, and baking recipes seemed to be a lie.

It’s been a week now since the… accident with the witch. A week where the first few days he had locked himself up in one of the apartments the Rogues used for laying low. Then, after three days, he had made his way to the nearest safe house because he couldn’t stand himself pacing and thinking anymore. A good old-fashioned heist should manage to both scratch that itch and relax him, but then remembered he likely would have to deal with The Flash then, and a confrontation with Barry Allen so soon after that last time was surely not going to help him at all.

So, he had stayed in the safe house, sulking and basically doing nothing except bake all day long and watch stupid TV shows and at least half informative documentaries. But as soon as one about cryptids had come on, Len inexplicably had to think of Barry, so he immediately had shut off his TV, thrown away the half-finished batter and went straight to bed, contemplating whether screaming and yelling and fighting or drinking himself into a stupor would be the better way to deal with this clusterfuck that apparently was his life now.

When, quite sensibly, he came to the conclusion that neither of those options would help him solve his situation, he had decided that maybe he should just go and talk to Team Flash. It wouldn’t hurt (not much anyway) and they usually had quite good ideas.

(He tried, very adamantly, to ignore that he would see both Cisco, whom thinking of hurt like a bitch, and Barry, whose voice and his eyes just wouldn’t leave Len’s mind anymore, again.)

Which was why he found himself in front of S.T.A.R. Labs main entrance (why did they _still_ not have any functioning security?), feeling anxious and nauseated as fuck. Not that there was anything terrible happening inside. He’d been here thousands of times before, if not for when he was helping them, then to pick Cisco up for a date.

Which brought him back to the current problem at hand. Great.

“Oh—hey Len,” Caitlin greeted him as he stepped into the cortex.

“Hello. I’ve thought I’d come by, seeing if you could help me with my little, ah, problem.”

She nodded, smiling sympathetically at him. “Of course.” She beckoned him to follow, which he did. He also noticed that she was seemingly alone in the lab, no Cisco or Barry rushing around. “The boys are off and about,” she confirmed his theory.

“Ah.”

“Sit down, Len.” He did.

“So, maybe let’s just talk first, shall we?”

He just nodded. He felt a lot like he was in one of those therapy sessions Lisa made him go to when he was around twenty-six.

“Just to sum things up a little again. You remember everything from your past that was prior to your first encounter with The Flash four years ago. After that, all your important memories, like your first fight with him and of course, you and Barry dating, seems to be reversed, or at least… distorted. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“Has anything changed in your memories since last week? Like, let’s say, has the span of incorrect memories increased to more than those four years? Or have, by chance, any memories come back to you?”

“I don’t think so. It something has changed, then not consciously so.”

Caitlin nodded. “Just to be sure, and to monitor eventual progress from now on, I’ll put on a brain scan, check for any activity.” She rustled a bit, bringing all the instruments over, and connected him to them.

“Alright. Now, take a few deep breaths.” Len raised an eyebrow, feeling like this was more and more becoming a real therapy session. Caitlin matched him, and said in an unimpressed voice, “try to relax, or else all this will not work.”

“Fine.” He did as he was told, closing his eyes for a second taking deep breaths.

“Now, try to think of nothing. Empty your mind, and keep taking deep breaths.”

He grunted in response. Therapy session indeed. But he had to admit that after a few minutes, it really seemed to work. He felt calmer and lot more relaxed, his mind eased from the clusterfuck it was before.

“Now try to let your mind wander. What’s the first thing that comes to you?”

There was a flash of light, a flicker, so fast gone he wasn’t sure it was there. But he knew what it meant. “Barry. The Flash.”

“The first thing you think of is Barry?” and her voice was incredibly incredulous.

“His lightning streak,” he clarified.

“Your hippocampus shows a high level of activity,” and he could hear a slight tone of satisfaction in her voice, “which is good because this is the part of the brain that is connected to memories and remembering. Try to concentrate on that streak now.”

He did. The streak came back, brighter than before, the orange almost glowing. It zipped past his eyelids, fast and electric and beautiful. Then, suddenly, a jet of blue light, and the lighting and the ice collided, forming something abstract that looked like art.

Like the most beautiful piece of art he had seen. It reminded him of a painting he had once stolen for Barry and which now hang in their apartment.

Len was a little embarrassed about the gasp he let out in shock of what he had just remembered.

“There! Oh, my, Len, your brain activity! What was it that you remembered?”

“Barry. A painting I’ve stolen for him. It hangs in our apartment.”

Now Caitlin gasped, too, and let out a little, slightly unprofessional squeal. “Len, this is amazing!”

“So the memory is true, then?”

“Well, I don’t know about the painting, but you and Barry do live together. You two got an apartment roughly three months ago. Oh, that was such a disaster, let me tell you. Joe threw a fit because Barry took ages to tell him you guys were together at all. And then not soon after, he said he was moving out and in with you.” She smiled. “You remembering this is great, Len. Your hippocampus has shown such a high level of activity I’ve barely ever seen.”

“Well, that’s great.” He couldn’t ban the monotonous sound from his voice.

“It is indeed. I’d like to believe that that means you haven’t forgotten your ‘real’ memories entirely, but they are merely hidden among the new ones. Like the silver underneath a layer of oxide.” She smiled again, and it made Len feel slightly sick. “Maybe the solution to getting your memories back is just exposing you to them, or otherwise meditation and focusing on them like you did now. Do you want to try again?”

He nodded, not knowing what else to do.

 

***

 

After two hours of taking deep breaths, trying to focus on that streak of lightning that seemed to zip past his eyelids as soon as he had closes his eyes, and the glee in Caitlin’s voice every time he seemed to have made some progress in remembering, Len felt exhausted and tired. And no a small amount of guilt.

After S.T.A.R. Labs and the therapy session with the promise to come back tomorrow, and Caitlin’s promise to research other methods of remembering and the reason for all of this, he had rushed to Saints and Sinners, wanting a distraction. And, ironically, wanting to forget.

For all he had remembered about his apparent life with Barry—and it wasn’t much after that initial memory of that painting, and now consciously connecting Barry to the apartment, picturing Barry there, not Cisco—he felt guilty. Because he still was together with Cisco. Or so he remembered.

Knowing it wasn’t real, didn’t really help that he had _feelings_ for this nerd, for his hero. It didn’t help with the ache in his chest and the lump that formed in his throat when he thought about how all of it was wrong and not real, apparently. It didn’t help with the pain of knowing that this Cisco as he knew him now didn’t return those feelings. Didn’t share those memories. Didn’t care, except for Barry’s sake.

Which was another topic altogether.

Barry. As fast as lightning, fierce, electric in his love. Len knew this. And he remembered. He also remembered what he felt towards him, but it was as if those feelings were far, far away, hidden underneath a layer of fog. Or oxide, as Caitlin had put so eloquently. He knew existed, but he couldn’t _feel_ them.

“Knew I’d find you here.”

He turned to his left and saw Mick sitting down next to him, gesturing towards the bartender to bring both of them a bottle of beer. (Len’s fourth.)

“Mick,” he greeted him.

“Heard from Ray that you and the Doc’ve been doin’ some therapy-remembering-session. How did it go?”

“Peachy.” He sipped his beer.

“A little more information to work with here, Snart.”

He sighed. “I remembered something. Some… feelings I apparently have for Barry.”

“But you still love the Ramon kid.”

“I do.”

“’Tis fucked up, isn’t it? All of it.”

“Uh-huh.”

They sat in silence for a while, both of them drinking their beer. Too soon, Len’s was empty again. He gestured towards the bartender again, this time ordering a whiskey.

“What are you going to do about it, now?”

“I gotta keep remembering, don’t I?”

“But what is it that _you_ want, Snart? Other than what those bleeding heroes want you to do.”

“It doesn’t matter, now, does it? Whatever I think is real, isn’t. Most of it anyway. I remember loving Cisco. I remember spending so many nights with him. Hell, I remember designing wedding rings and thinking about the best way to propose to him. But in reality? Kid’s barely over me kidnapping him and icing his brother’s fingers.”

“And what about Barry? What do you feel for him?”

The lightning zipped past his eyelids again, and there was a faint, warm glow in his chest, along with what felt like a tingling of electricity. Too much, a part of him thought. Nothing, another part countered. “Since when do we do touchy-feely, Mick?”

“Since you hit me for breaking up with Haircut and nearly kept icing me until I fixed my issues and got back together with him.”

Well. That was true. Len couldn’t argue with that. But to be fair, Ray and Mick were like a match made in heaven, so good for each other. They both needed each other, in some way, and they were just so good together. Also was Ray one of the best things to happen to Mick in his life, and Len would be a shitty friend to let him run headfirst into his personal destruction.

“There is… a longing.” There was no other word to put it. “I know there is something there, and I know I love him. I just...”

“You know it but you don’t feel it.”

“Uh-huh.” He emptied his whiskey, ordering another.

“Listen, pal, I know I’m nowhere near an expert when it comes to stuff like this. But I know how you were when you and the kid were together. He made you happy. Happier than anything else in the world. Happier than the _game_ , or the _rush_.”

“He’s enough of a rush himself.”

“This is what you kept saying, yes.”

Silence again. Len contemplated whether it was a good idea to keep drinking, already starting to feel a slight buzz. But it wasn’t enough, he decided, not for his current situation.

“All I’m saying is, I know how it was. Before, I mean. It’s your decision, though, what you wanna do. You can keep tryin’ to remember, and if it works, then great, if not, then just… drop it. Maybe it’ll be a good thing.”

Len sighed. “You sound a lot like an expert in relationships to me, Mick.”

“Having a literal puppy for a boyfriend helps.”

Len laughed, and a sort of calm settled over him again. “Thanks, Mick.”

“No bother.”

Len knew Mick often acted as if he didn’t care, but he long ago learned this was never the case. Mick cared too deep for a fact but liked to ignore it because, in their experience, caring got you either hurt or killed, always.

They sat quietly for the rest of time, occasional exchanging grunts, and when Ray came to pick Mick up, Len left with them, walking back to the safe house, and not for the first time this evening thinking about what would happen if he’d show up at his apartment— _their_ apartment, and if Barry would be there to. And if it would be a good or a bad thing to spend the night around and with him.

 

***

 

The next day, taking an aspirin and having made the (maybe, the jury was still out on that) sensible decision to keep trying to get his real memories back, Len went back to S.T.A.R. Labs.

What he was not expecting was to see Barry and Cisco being there, too, together with Caitlin and Ray in an animated discussion. Neither of them noticed him entering the room.

“I really think we should ask her. That’s ultimately the best option we have.”

“Come on, Cisco, you know she’ll never help us. She has nothing to gain from that.”

“But what else do you want to do? Waiting for him to remember everything?”

“It did go quite good yesterday, you know. We probably won’t be able to recover all memories like that, that is going to take time. But the ones that matter.”

“No, but seriously, what if the witch knows something that can help? It doesn’t hurt to ask, right? The worst she can do is laugh at us and not help.”

“Gotta say, I agree with Raymond here,” Len chipped in. “Also, I’m known to be pretty persuasive.”

“Len!” Barry looked at him like a deer in the headlights, his expression so damn open. That kid really had got to learn how to do a proper poker face. He was too damn obvious.

Len smiled, “hey, Flash.” Something stirred inside his chest, roughly in the region where his heart was.

“Snart. We didn’t see you come in,” Cisco said with surprise. Len turned to look at him and he was not prepared for the blow and the ache he suddenly felt.

“Cisco.” He managed to tear his eyes away. “Caitlin. Raymond.” He nodded at them. “Have you made a plan yet? Or is that supposed to be my job again?”

“You’re the expert when it comes to breaking and entering, man.”

Len just raised his eyebrows but—well. He was not wrong. “Get me some blueprints of the Heights, and in half an hour, we’ll be ready to go.”

Cisco followed suit immediately, and not even three minutes later, he was pulling up what Len would have needed months of planning and then stealing for.

Len stepped in front of the big screen and considered the blueprints. He knew them, of course, but not quite by heart as he wished he would. So far, he could see different possibilities of how they could enter the prison, but ultimately they’d need either Cisco’s or Barry’s help, in this short amount of time they had for mapping out and executing their plan, there was no room for finesse and wit.

No, a clean “get in, ask her, get out”, without them being seen, was the best option.

He could feel the others twitch behind him, their eyes on his back, getting impatient.

Len smirked. Patience was something Team Flash wasn’t really used to, he gathered, not with someone like Barry in their midst. But patience was a virtue Len deemed as one of the most important ones.

After nearly half an hour, however, he had managed to come up with a plan, and with backup plans A, 1B, 2B, 1C, 2C, and even D, just in case.

He cleared his throat, enjoying the tension a little longer. “Here’s how it’s gonna go down. But I’m relatively sure you won’t like it.”

“Whatever it is, it probably is the best plan we can come up with. I mean, this isn’t the first time you get in there, right? Or—out there again, for that matter.” Ray, always the optimist.

Alright. “The plan is simple. We need to get into the security room—” Len pointed at the respective place on the blueprints, “disable the cameras. Usually, I’d say Cisco should disable them from here, but hacking into a prison’s CCTV—maybe not the wisest decision. From there, we go over there—” he pointed towards the metahuman wing, tracing the way they had to walk (or run, if Barry was the one tagging along) with his index finger. “We ask her, we get our answers, we get the hell out again. But once inside, we’ll have five minutes, tops, before someone figures out something is wrong. Probably less.”

“And how are we supposed to get _in_?” Cisco asked.

“Well, either you, my dear, or Barry has to accompany me. We either flash in, or vibe in.”

Cisco snorted, and Len couldn’t really put it past him. Not his best puns, but alas.

“I’ll… get you inside.” Len turned his attention to Barry. The other had his arms crossed in front of his chest, his hands clutching his arms so tightly his knuckles were white. His eyes were somewhere focused on the ground and only sometimes twitched towards Len. “It’s quicker and safer, and Cisco can help us from here if anything goes wrong.”

Len kept studying him, his gaze firmly on Barry. The other was all tense lines and insecurity, unsure and a little helpless. “If that’s alright with you,” he added.

“Sure.”

Barry just nodded in agreement.

“Okay, guys, not to be _that_ person” Caitlin chimed in from Len’s right, wringing her hands, “but the plan does sound… a little—unsafe. There are so many ways this could go wrong, they could easily see you.”

“Well, I’m still a vigilante, so technically, everything I do is illegal. The worst that can happen is Joe telling me off, but he will understand the reason we had to—to break into Iron Heights. Or Len could be caught and recognized… but I wouldn’t let it come to that. So, it’s safe.”

“And it’s not like we can just wait until visiting hours and see her the official way,” Len added.

She gave each of them a stern look. “Okay, yeah, you’re right. Just—be safe. We don’t need any more complications and people who are hurt. And that witch has already caused too much trouble.”

They both nodded, and Cisco grinned, excitement clearly visible.

“Okay, then, I’ll just—” A trail of lightning, and Barry was standing next to him wearing the Flash suit, holding out one of the spare parkas Len had left here a while ago. (Now come to think of it, he did not remember when that had happened, and he knew the memory should be there.

He really hated witches. It was only a good thing they were going to see her now.)

He shrugged out of his leather jacket and inside his parka, and a “ready?” was the only warning he got before Barry had scooped him up and was carrying him bridal style, running.

As soon as they had sped off, Len felt the rush, the wind, the electricity skimming over his body. It all felt so… familiar, the heat and cold at the same time, the nauseating but also somewhat pleasing feeling he only got when he was running with Barry.

Running with Barry. It was like a flash the memory came back to him. “Wanna see what it feels like to run across the ocean? Or along the seaside? Across the country?” And they had run, Len in Barry’s arms, the other carrying him as he had run them over the ocean, then back onto the dry land again, across the agricultural fields and over the hills. He remembered Barry’s constant smile, his joy and the happiness in his eyes. He felt the warm glow in his chest, the astonishing realization that this man was his.

It was over all too soon and they were outside the prison side, just a few meters off, hiding behind a few trees. The flashback ended as soon as Barry put him on the ground again, the moment his feet touched the floor. The tingling in his heart-region, the warm glow, was back.

“Caitlin was right, this is a terrible plan.” He sounded so anxious Len was pretty sure he’d start pacing if that wouldn’t lead to them being discovered.

“So we’ve established.”

“But I mean it. We’re never gonna make it.”

He grabbed hold of Barry’s wrist and turned him around so they were facing each other. “Barry, you’re quite literally the fastest man alive. You can phase to walls, and through floors. You can throw lightning bolts. You can time travel without a time ship. If someone can get us inside the control room, then it’s you.” He didn’t miss how Barry’s eyes were darting to their point of contact. He let go again.

Barry sighed, and Len had to chuckle. “I miss the days when you’ve been the pessimist of the two of us, honestly.” He scooped Len up in bridal-style again, smiling unsurely before he sped off again.

“Guys, are you inside?” Cisco’s voice rang over the comms.

“Yes,” Len answered as soon as Barry had put him down again, and set off towards the security systems, his gun in his hand. It didn’t take him long to ice the right camera and find the right monitor to disable so there would be no records of what was going to happen in the metahuman wing, and ready they were to set off.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“I feel like this is not the first time.”

“No, unfortunately, it isn’t.” He sighed, but he was also smiling, so Len counted this as a success.

They gave each other a curt nod before Barry lifted him up again and ran them towards the cell of the witch.

 

***

 

“Well, look who’s come to visit me.” The witch was sitting cross-legged on her bunk and she didn’t seem fazed by their presence in the slightest. “The Flash and his cool boyfriend.”

“How d’you—”

“Oh, please. I can literally feel the URT and UST between the two of you. Well, now, it’s a lot more angsty than it was when, you know. Before, there was so much… fluff. Urgh. This way, it’s a lot more interesting.”

“You call this interesting?” Len didn’t need to look at Barry to know that lightning was crackling in his eyes.

“Well, it does spice things up a little bit, doesn’t it? And, just between the three of us,” she leaned forward as if she wanted to let them in on a secret, “if you do manage to break it, then you can be sure your love is real. In that case, you’re welcome.”

Len’s voice cut through the air like ice. “Break what?”

“The curse, my dear, what else? I assume this is why you have come here, isn’t it? To ask me about it?”

“… yes.”

“I see.” But instead of continuing, she just looked at them as if they were an interesting TV show she was excited to see how the plot would develop.

“So will you tell us?”

She laughed, sounding positively wicked. “Tell you? What makes you think I’d do that? I mean, you put me in here. Unless you can get me out, there is nothing in it for me, is there? No, it’s way more fun to see you struggle to figure it out yourselves.”

“But you gotta tell us!” Barry’s fist surged forward, hitting the glass, and for a second, Len was afraid it would break due to the sheer speed with which he had hit it. “Please.”

Len stepped forward a little, putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Here,” gently pushing him back a little, “let me try it.”

“Len—”

“Do you trust me?”

The answer was immediate. “Of course I trust you.”

Len nodded. “Then let me try this.”

“I—okay. Yeah.” He stepped back, still looking anxious. He didn’t have any reason to, though, Len thought by himself. It wasn’t as if he was going to ice her. (Only maim or severely injure, maybe.)

Len took a deep breath and turned to face the witch. “So—”

“Hermione,” he heard Cisco’s voice in his ear. “That’s her name.” Of course it was.

“Hermione. Care to tell what spell you hit me with?”

“Let me think about it… _no_.”

“Hm. Hermione, you see, I have my means of getting anything I want, and that includes the information about which curse you used on me and how to break it.”

“Yeah? Then bring it on. I’ve got all day long sitting here, in a cell, where I can’t get out but you also can’t get it. And you also only have approximately two minutes left before the guards will show up here because they realized someone tampered with the security footage.”

She was right. “But unlike my good and righteous partner here, I don’t have any moral qualms about letting you out of here. If, in return, you tell me how to break with whatever you hit me.”

“What? Len, no, you can’t—what are you doing?”

Len raised his index, signaling Barry to stop, to be quiet, but all the while keeping his eyes on Hermione.

“You’re boyfriend doesn’t seem to like the idea very much.”

“Well, he isn’t my boyfriend anymore. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

She tilted her head, appraising him, even looking a little impressed. “You’re right, I did.”

“Do we have a deal then? You tell me, and I let you out. The guards will be here in… approximately ninety seconds. Enough time.”

“And what about him?” She pointed towards him.

“I’ll deal with him. If this information is really that valuable to him, then he won’t cause any trouble.”

And that seemed to do it for Hermione. She was smiling like a cat that caught the canary. “Gotta say, as much as I’d love to see you fall to pieces, my freedom is worth so much more to me.” She paused, her eyes flickering between him and Barry. “We call it the _clades_ curse, the reversal curse. I’m sure you’ve noticed already. Nasty, nasty stuff.” She giggled.

“Lovely. How do I break it?”

“Ah, yes, yes, yes. This is the most fun part. There is no way of breaking it.”

“What? But you said—you’d tell us!” Barry yelled, and he sounded as desperate as Len suddenly felt.

“And I did, didn’t I? I told you the name, and how to break it. Only, unfortunately, there is no way of breaking it.”

“There is always a way! There has to be.”

Less than sixty seconds. They were running out of time.

“That’s it.” In a quick and impulsive decision, Len took his cold gun out, powered it up, and put it against the glass of her cell, firing, letting the cold penetrate the glass. “You know what the gun can do apart from freezing people’s limbs off? It can lower the temperature so much you’ll freeze to death. And nearly nothing can raise the temperature again. Not in time, at least.”

Her cheery attitude changed into slight fear in an instant.

“So. You can decide now. Either you tell me what we want to know, or the deal’s off and I’ll keep firing and then, the frost will end you eventually. Your call.” His voice was cold as the temperature around him.

“They chose a fitting name for you, Captain Cold,” she spat out. “Fine. I’ll tell you. There truly is nothing you can do. The curse affects the mind, and there is no reverse to the reverse. Either you’re strong, or you’re not. But no one has ever managed to break out of this. Sorry, honey.”

“No!” Barry yelled, surging forward so that the air around them crackled with lightning. “You’re lying! You must be lying. There has to be a way! There is always a way.”

“Not with this one. Now, I think it should be about time you get me out of here. The guards will be here any second.”

Barry’s fist surged forward so fast all Len registered was the loud bang echoing off the glass. Lightning danced around his body, his eyes flashing. He looked incredible, powerful, like a god.

“Sorry, _honey_ , but no.” In that moment, a deafening alarm sounded. “And that’s our cue. Flash, dear, let’s go.”

“What—you can’t leave me here!” She jumped up and hit the glass the place Barry had. Only her punches were nowhere as powerful. “We had a deal!”

“Haven’t you heard? I’m a liar.” He smirked at her and grabbed hold on Barry’s shoulder.

“This isn’t over yet,” Barry said, pointing at her, and _God_ , his voice, it should be forbidden to sound so sexy in a situation like that.

Just as they could hear footsteps outside the cell door, Barry lifted Len up again and off they were. Hermione’s angry yell followed them on their way out of the prison.

 

***

 

“Always so dramatic, Barry.”

“Yeah, well, my boyfriend happens someone who keeps making cold puns twenty-four seven, who has _Frozen_ apron, and who wears a parka even in summer just for the fun of it.” He paused, and his expression changed from amused to hurt in a second. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Not while…”

“It’s fine, Scarlet, don’t worry.”

Barry gasped. “You…just… called me Scarlet.”

“So?”

“You—never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

“I called you that before, didn’t I? Before all of this?”

Barry nodded. He took a tentative step forward, bridging the several foot-gap between them. “Have you… you are remembering something already, right?”

“Yeah, something. It’s not much, though, and nearly not enough.”

“If I may ask… what is it that you remember?”

Len let out a sigh again and leaned against the hallway wall. “It always starts with a lightning. The first thing I remembered was that painting in the living room of our apartment.”

Barry let out a choked sound. “You stole it for me for Christmas. Joe threw a fit when he saw it, but he couldn’t really arrest you then, could he? He gave me his cold shoulder treatment for weeks.” He let out a strangled laugh. “I know I shouldn’t have accepted it, but… this was so you, you know? And it fits us so well.”

“It does. After all, ice causes lightning, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

They were silent, and Len tried not to stare too obviously at Barry. Like this, it was easy to imagine that he’d be together with him. The kid was so pretty, so handsome even, with the most adorable set of freckles and moles. His hair looked so soft and Len wondered what it would feel like to run his hands through it. What it would feel like to grab it when the other was on his knees.

He tore his eyes away, feeling conflicted.

“Hey, um, Len? I had an idea.”

“And what would that be, Barry?”

“Well, considering you do want to… remember more. Maybe… I thought we could try to trigger the memories? By spending time together?”

“Ah, and of which memories did you think, now?”

“Not—not ones like that! Just… I don’t know, normal memories?”

“Well, when being in a relationship with someone as pretty and fit as you, I’d imagine _memories like that_ are pretty normal ones.” And oh, was the blush on Barry’s face so glorious. For a second he wondered how far that blush extended down his chest. Shame that he didn’t remember, really. Because he was so endearing like this.

“Okay, yes, I mean if—if you’re up for that—but I guess it would be weird—but if you want to?” he spluttered, and oh, how bittersweet that longing was.

But it wasn’t right. Not yet, anyway. “As generous as that offer is, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. I’m not quite there yet.” It’d still feel like cheating on Cisco, but he didn’t say that.

“Oh. Okay. Yeah, sure, I understand.”

“But… doing normal stuff sounds good. We probably watched a lot of movies?”

He smiled. “Yeah, we did.”

“Then let’s do that. Tonight?”

“Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”

“Me, too.” The truth of that statement hit him like a train against a brick wall.

“Guys, if you’re done flirting, could you please return to the cortex?” Cisco’s voice said over the comms, and the pang of guilt Len felt was somewhat obligatory. Not that it changed anything.

Len and Barry looked at each other, and for a second, a something passed between them, something indescribable, something that brought that warm glow back.

Then the moment was gone, and they headed off towards the cortex.

“She wasn’t lying when she said the _clades_ curse was some nasty stuff,” Cisco said the moment he saw them, sounding concerned. “We did some digging while you guys were busy, and you’re not gonna like what we found.

“According to some old, occult legends, the _clades_ curse was first developed somewhere in the Middle Ages. It makes the one who is hit… confused, to put it that way. There are many different ways for the curse to manifest, apparently, the memories being reversed only is one of them.”

“But that’s just the beginning,” Caitlin chimed in. “The curse takes two to four weeks to fully manifest, and once it does, you cannot reverse it anymore.”

“What do you mean, fully manifest?” Len glanced sideways at Barry.

“The purpose of this curse was used to confuse people, then eventually drive them insane. It found a common use during the time of the French Revolution, but also later, and then again during the Victorian Era.” Cisco started pacing in front of the screen. “Once fully manifested, the victim won’t know anymore what’s real and what’s not, having nightmares, hallucinations, memory loss, and problems with both short term and long-term memory.”

“So you say I’ll be going crazy within the next few days if we don’t manage to reverse it.”

“Basically, yeah.”

“Great. Now, how do we reverse it?”

“Well,” Caitlin started, looking incredibly uncomfortable, “That is the problem. We… don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” He couldn’t help his voice turning a few tones colder.

“Look, man, we checked everything there is. Lore, history, science, and even some magic. There is nothing there. Hermione wasn’t lying.”

Len let himself turn fully towards Cisco, but seeing the man not really caring, not as much as he should, hurt. It hurt more than he expected.

“So, what, we’ll just do nothing to hope for the best?” Barry nearly cried. “There has to be a way! There has to be—something!”

Caitlin smiled sympathetically, walking over and gently put her hand on Barry’s shoulder. “The best thing we can do at the moment is exposing him to his memories, hoping it’ll trigger the real ones to overwrite the inaccurate ones.”

Len didn’t realize he had put so much faith in those people when his hopes shattered like a piece of glass. “Well, isn’t that just peachy.”

“Len, we’ll find a way”

“We’ll see tonight. Maybe it’ll trigger something, right, Barry?” With that, he turned around, and he left the cortex.

Not that he cared if he turned insane, not really. One should think, though, that sacrificing oneself and restoring time and one’s freedom to do whatever they wanted was enough of good karma (or getting rid of bad one) for a lifetime. Now, he had lost this kind of freedom again. And wasn’t that just fitting?

 

***

 

At seven thirty, Len stood in front of the door of his and Barry’s apartment, contemplating whether he really should go inside. He had found his way here without any problems as if he didn’t even need to actually remember the way. He just knew.

Coming back had felt weird and familiar at the same time. Not that it helped any to calm his nerves.

Geez, since when had he turned so soft?

He raised his hand and knocked, and the door was immediately pulled open by Barry.

“Hi, Len,” he said a little breathless, looking like a wet dream in his tight trousers and navy blue sweater.

An image of Cisco immediately popped up, slouching on the couch in a pair of joggers that hugged his arse very nicely, and one of his science-y shirts Len always loved.

He shook his head. This was not real. Cisco was not real. Not the one he remembered, anyway, because they’ve never been in a relationship.

“Hello, Barry,” he finally managed to bring out. “May I come in?”

“Oh! Oh, yes, of course!” He stepped sideways and guided Len inside in a ridiculous impression of a butler. Len snorted, but a touch of the warm glow was starting to make itself known in his chest.

“Well, I gotta say, we do have a nice taste in style and décor, Barry.” He looked around the spacious apartment, and suddenly, a feeling of home overcame Len. The dark wood of the furniture and timber, the light and somewhat cool color of the walls, the lively paintings and photographs that were everywhere gave him the feeling of belonging somewhere, that this was where he was supposed to be.

“I’m glad you still think so.”

Barry guided him towards the kitchen (Len still knew where it was) and offered him a beer. Len couldn’t help but look around, trying to be subtle about it but still in too much awe of both the architectural skills and the feeling of right and _home_.

“It’s good, seeing you back here, you know. It’s been… different, when you were gone.”

“I can’t promise I’ll stay tonight, Barry.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” He waved his hand, feigning indifference, but Len knew him too well to not realize how anxious the other was.

The thought startled him, but it was the truth. He did know Barry. All too well.

But not enough at the same time.

“So, what is it that we normally do?”

“Well, we watch Netflix—” Len snorted because of course they did, “—and we cook. Like, often. Or, you bake a lot, and I do the cooking.”

“Then what’s on the menu for tonight, Chef Allen?”

Barry laughed, and his shoulders relaxed a little. He leaned back against the counter. “I was thinking of some Indian daal? With some chicken tikka, rice, and vegetables.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Barry beamed.

Len tried to help as much as he could with the cooking, but it turned out Barry was as careful and meticulous as he was when it came to baking. He pretended not to monitor every step Len made or not to check if Len had followed each instruction exactly as he had said, but Len caught the glances Barry threw him and his work, and he had to smirk. And every time Barry caught him catching him, he blushed brightly, and it was just so _endearing_.

When they had finished making their dinner (and Len had to hand it to Barry, it smelled delicious), they sat down on the couch and turned on the TV, casually flipping through Netflix and in the end deciding for watching _The Punisher_ , a show Len actually enjoyed watching quite much.

They didn’t say much for a long time, occasionally commenting on what was currently happening on the show.

But that was just it; simple, nothing fancy. Len got pulled into the familiarity of all of it, of Barry sitting next to him on the couch, _feeling_ Barry next to him on the couch. Having dinner together, watching a TV show.

Basically, it was nothing, but, on a sudden and impulsive thought, it also was the world.

“So, how was your day?” Len eventually asked, turning towards Barry.

He laughed. “My day? Hm, well, let’s think… Oh, yeah, before we broke into Iron Heights to interrogate Hermione, I was late for work—”

“—as always.”

“Exactly. So, nothing new there. I actually got to process some evidence before we got called to this murder scene. Ugly, and no finesse, but it makes my job easier. Also, boring. I mean, not that a murder is just boring and nothing else! I mean, a murder is always horrible, especially for the family. Just, those are usually so obvious and… easy? Gosh, I sound like an idiot.”

Barry covered his face with his hands, and Len just broke out in a laugh.

“Is my misery that funny to you?” he asked, looking up and the face he made almost had Len laughing again.

“No, it’s just very adorable hearing you rambling like that as if we’re on a first date.”

“But we are, in a way, aren’t we?”

“Maybe. If you see it that way.”

“A little. I mean, I think I know you, but then, with your memories being different from what I remember, it’s all… not the same as before, is it? And you don’t remember much about me, either. We have to get to know each other—the ones we are now. The way we are now. Maybe that’ll help.”

Len let out a very ungraceful snort. “So what do you suggest we do? Two Truths and One Lie?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

“Oh, kid, you’re giving me gray hair.”

“Pretty sure you have those already.”

Barry sniggered, and Len shot him a cold look, which only caused him to snigger even more.

“Okay, fine then, shoot.”

“Oh, okay. Um… I really love musicals.”

“Truth.”

“I am friends with Supergirl, who is actually the older cousin of Superman.”

“Lie.”

“Nope, that’s actually true.”

“What? Since when does Superman have a cousin?”

Barry laughed. “You gotta keep up with the latest news, old man. But he has indeed a cousin. She came here when she was a teenager. Lives on earth thirty-eight.”

“Right, the multiverse theory is actually real.”

“Yup. Oh! And I’ve never been struck by lightning.”

“Lie,” Len deadpanned.

“Exactly!” he said giggly. “Now your turn.”

“I… have broken out of prison four times so far, I have twenty-eight tattoos on my body, and my favorite song is ‘Cold As Ice’ by Foreigner.”

“First one’s truth, second is the lie—you have twenty-nine tattoos on your body, you got the last one this year on our anniversary and I have a matching one—and third, truth. Of course the last one’s true.”

Len chuckled. “I did choose that song with a reason when you first came into Saints and Sinners that evening.”

Barry looked at him slightly shocked, his expression something between alarm and happiness. It was quite the sight to look at until Len realized why he made that expression. He was pretty sure it now mirrored on his own face.

“You remember that?”

“I… I wasn’t aware that I did. It just… came to me, in that moment.”

“That’s… wow, Len, that’s actually incredible. Do you know what that means?”

“I’m getting my memories back?”

“No! I mean, yes, of course, but I meant that this game isn’t so stupid after all.”

In that moment, Len really wanted to bang his forehead onto a table. Or against a wall. “Wow,” he answered, very unimpressed.

But Barry laughed, and his thousand-watt smile was directed at Len, and that was definitely worth all the bad jokes.

 

***

 

After three more rounds of Two Truths And A Lie, Barry had suggested that they should switch to Never Have I Ever, and Len almost agreed if it weren’t for the tiny little detail that Barry couldn’t get drunk. Not without the Flash-proof-alcohol, anyway, as he had dubbed it.

So they had continued to watch Netflix (they had switched to a movie called _The Intern_ , and wow, Barry was such a _sap_ ).

The silence was a comfortable, not awkward as Len had feared it would be. And the movie wasn’t even half bad (okay, it was pretty good, who was he even kidding at this point?).

He hadn’t realized they had moved so closely together over the hours they’ve been sitting on the couch, their shoulders and thighs touching. If Len wanted to, he could’ve put his arm around Barry so easily, just letting it fall down from the backrest and around the other’s shoulders, his hands already so close to the nape of Barry’s neck.

He gulped and forced himself to tear his eyes away, trying desperately to focus on what was happening in the film. But he couldn’t, and Barry was so close, and he felt so warm against his side.

“Hey, Len? Are you okay?”

“Peachy,” he answered in a strangled voice.

“You sur—oh.” Barry had turned sideways, now staring at Len, and Len looked back at him. He saw Barry gulp, his Adam’s apple bobble, and his pupils widened unmistakeably. “Len,” he said breathlessly, and in that second, his brain came offline.

Later, he wasn’t able to tell who went in for the kiss first, or if they both had surged forward in desperate need at the same time. But they did, and their mouths crashed together, hard, hot, and just so perfect. Barry licked into his mouth, his hands instantly grabbing Len’s sweater while he took Barry’s face between his palms.

It felt like fireworks exploding and Len saw sparks, feeling high and intoxicated and just incredible within mere seconds. He should have known that this was what kissing the Flash would be like, electricity running through his body, heat rising up inside of him constantly.

He let his hands wander into Barry’s hair, grabbing those soft strands, losing himself entirely in the kiss. All he could think about was the man next to him, this beautiful man with those amazing eyes and dark skin and those perfect long curls—

Curls?

As if bitten, Len’s eyes snapped open and he froze.

This was Barry. It was Barry who he was kissing, Barry, whose tongue could do the most amazing things to him, Barry, who tasted so good it was like the best drug Len had ever tried.

It was Barry. And not Cisco.

Oh, God.

“Len?”

“I—” Shit. That that was not good. “Fuck, Barry, I’m sorry.”

“Len, I’m fine. You did nothing wrong.”

Len shook his head, increasing the space between him and Barry, sliding backward until he hit the armrest. “Yes, I did. I should—I shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, Len, it’s fine, I’m fine—you don’t have to worry.” He skidded closer a little, moving towards the middle of the couch.

“Barry, don’t.” He held his hand up, palm outwards. “This… this is wrong. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

The kid was too damn open, so obvious in his feelings, so unguarded. He shook his head, trying to put on a neutral expression, trying to go for compassionate, but Len could still see the hurt in his eyes as if he had slapped him. “But… what happened?”

“I…” he shook his head. No, he wouldn’t say it. “Never mind.” He stood up, stretching himself, and walked away, making his way to the door. “Maybe it was a bad idea coming here. We hoped it would change anything, hoped it would bring any memories back but clearly, it didn’t work.” He scolded his voice into something cold.

Barry got up, too, hurrying towards him while he was already putting on his coat. “Len, please, whatever it is I did, I’m sorry. It wasn’t right to kiss you, not with all that you’re going through, I just… I missed you so much.”

Len stilled, one arm already inside his jacket, the other outstretched in the air.

“But that doesn’t make okay what I did. I shouldn’t have sprung myself onto you like that,” Barry continued. His eyes were fidgeting between Len, the door, and the floor. “I’m sorry.”

Eventually, Len managed to put on his coat. “This has nothing to do with you, Barry.” Damn, why did he sound so soft? “It’s my fault,” he tried again, trying to make his voice sound colder, trying desperately to gain some distance between them. “I shouldn’t’ve… kissed you. That was cruel and…” He paused again. “It’s my fault.”

“No, Len how could this be your fault? You just— _I_ kissed _you_. I just… I didn’t think, I just acted, because I’ve wanted to kiss you _so damn much_. But instead, I’ve ruined everything we had accomplished this evening.”

“It is my fault because I was thinking about kissing Cisco.”

It was like a slap in the face and Len knew it, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. It was the truth, after all.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

It was silent far too long while they stood in Barry’s hallway—no, their hallway, staring at each other, both of them lost for words.

“I should go,” Len finally said. Barry just nodded.

With a last look back, he turned around and walked down the stairs, a lump forming in his throat, but not knowing whether it was because he missed Cisco or missed kissing Barry or because he knew was breaking Barry’s heart. And knowing that, at the same time, he was also breaking his own.

 

***

 

_BANG BANG BANG_

“The fuck…?”

“Lenny, open up, I know you’re in there!”

Even with his brain only being half online, Len was able to look at the alarm clock on the bed stand to his left. And he was awake enough to know that six thirty was too fucking early. On any day.

He was going to kill someone. “Fuck off!” he bellowed, burying his head deeper in his pillows, hoping against hope Lisa’d go away and leave him alone.

“Brother, dear, we have a visitor.”

“Well, tell ‘em to fuck off, too!”

He heard her chuckle through the door, and then she pounded against it again, not any more quietly than before, splitting Len’s head open.

Maybe he should smother her with his largest pillow. “What” he bit out, utterly pissed as he tore the door open, facing his immaculate looking sister, “on earth is so fucking important you think it’s a good idea to wake me up at six fucking thirty?”

She just smirked, not looking fazed by him one bit. “He is,” she answered, pointing over her shoulder. Only then Len realized that no other than Cisco Ramon was standing behind her.

“What is he doing here?” he asked flatly. He was not in the mood for any of this. Not today, not ever, but especially not this fucking early in the fucking morning.

“What a frosty good morning.”

Unimpressed, Len just stared at him, not dignifying this bad pun with a response.

“Aaaand that’s my cue to leave. Bye, boys! Cisco, love, I’ll catch you later, okay?”

“If I’m still alive then,” he muttered under his breath. Lisa just laughed and pecked him the lips before she vanished doing God knows what. Probably planning Len’s inevitable doom.

“So, um, I figured we should talk.”

Of course he did. “I need some coffee first.” Without waiting up for him, Len turned around and made his way towards the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee (thank God Lisa had at least decided to make some beforehand), contemplating whether or not to put some whiskey in it and then deciding, fuck it, it was five in the afternoon somewhere.

“So. What is it that you wanna talk about?”

“Barry.”

“So I figured. What exactly?”

“I dunno, man, anything? Everything?” He sighed. “Look. I know you guys kissed last night—”

“How do you know that?”

“Barry crashed at my place last night, raided my fridge, ate all of my three containers of cookie dough ice cream, and told me about it. Also, he was practically wallowing in self-pity. But that’s not the point.” He waved his hand impatiently. “I just wanted to say that that’s totally okay for me. You and Barry. Kissing, or… whatever you want to do. You know that, right?”

As casually as he could manage, Len sipped his coffee. “I know that. You and I aren’t in a relationship. That’s just all inside my head. Therefore, I can’t possibly upset real-you. Doesn’t make it any better, though.”

Cisco sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He looked unfairly sexy and Len had to focus on something else than the gorgeous man in front of him. “I know it doesn’t. But I still figured the two of us should have an honest and open conversation, even though it might amount to nothing.”

“Fair.” He leaned against the kitchen counter, Cisco mirroring his pose.

“Um, how about we move this conversation to somewhere more comfortable?”

“I actually quite like standing in the cold and dimly lit kitchen, thanks.”

“Urgh, dude, why do you have to be so difficult? Honestly, I don’t know how Barry puts up with you.”

“Ouch, so nice today, aren’t we, hurting the amnesiac’s feelings,” Len answered and clutched his chest mockingly. That, at least, got a laugh out of Cisco.

In the end, they did move onto the couch where they sat facing each other. Len felt a little as if he had a déjà-vu, but he tried very hard to ignore the memories of last evening.

“Sooo… what is it that you feel for Barry?”

Len snorted. “Really? That’s how you wanna open this conversation?”

“Dude, that’s one of the two elephants in the room. The other being you thinking that… the two of us… are in a relationship. But I’ll be getting to that later.”

“Oh, golly. Fine, if you must.” He sipped more of his coffee, trying to buy himself some time. He had no idea how to answer this question. “What I feel for Barry… it’s difficult. It’s different from what I am supposed to feel. Different from… what I feel for you.” He twirled the mug between his hands. “Every time I close my eyes, there’s his lightning streak zipping past my eyes.”

“But that’s a good thing, right?”

Len couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows. “How is it a good thing that every time I am reminded of what should be but what I just simply can’t give?” He sighed. “Try to think what it would be like to be in love with Lisa, but everyone else keeps saying you’re together with Caitlin.”

“That… doesn’t sound right.”

“Exactly. Now, on top of that, think about what it’d be like if you saw a ray of snowflakes falling past your eyelids. Every damn time.”

“Uh-oh. Okay. I think I get what you’re saying. But… why did you kiss him, then? Last night. You could have just said no, and walked away. But why kiss back?”

Len places his empty mug on the floor, absently thinking that he had to remember placing it there or he would crush it later by stepping on it. “Because I wanted to. And…” he looked at Cisco, and it pained him. “Because it felt like the right thing to do.”

Cisco nodded, his expression carefully neutral. “And the kiss itself, how had that felt?”

Well, how had it felt? It had felt like the best damn thing ever to happen to him. Like a storm, that was powerful and bright and just incredible. It had felt hot and electrifying. It had felt as if kissing Barry was the only thing he needed to survive.

He wanted to say all this, he knew he probably should. And could, because this was Cisco. Cisco, who was dating his sister, and not him. “It felt… perfect. It was.”

“So what got you freaking out suddenly?”

“Maybe the realization that I was kissing someone who was not my boyfriend?” Or that he had thought of said boyfriend while kissing Barry, involuntarily? His boyfriend, who wasn’t actually his boyfriend.

God, Len hated witches. So fucking much.

“But you enjoyed kissing Barry. And if you hadn’t—well, if you hadn’t remembered me while kissing him, you’d have continued, right?”

“Don’t see why not.”

“Okay. That’s—that’s actually great. That means there is a definite attraction you have towards Barry, and you might even like him.”

“Of course I like him.”

“Of course?”

“He’s a dork, adorable. And funny, and he can cook. He’s thoughtful, considerate, and compassionate—” He stopped, nearly stumbling over his own words. Cisco was smirking at him, looking incredibly smug. “What?” Len barked out.

“Oh, nothing.” He looked as if he wanted to contain a fit of giggles. “Just, it sounds to me as if you really like Barry.”

Len didn’t answer.

“Look, man, to me, it seems that your memory of loving Barry—you actually loving Barry—is still there. You either just can’t access that memory and that feeling because of the _clades_ curse, or you don’t want to because of what you think you feel for me. But it’s there, and your feelings for Barry are getting stronger and make themselves present more and more.” He paused, scrutinizing Len. “Either way, you’ll just have to realize what you do feel for Barry is real, and more importantly, that you’re allowed to feel it. You’ve got to learn to let go. Trust your instincts, and, more importantly, trust your heart.”

“My heart is made of ice and nothing can ever warm it up again.”

“Pal, I’m pretty sure your heart hadn’t been frozen anymore since you first saw The Flash foiling that heist of yours.” He paused, expression turning soft. “His lightning has struck you already a long time ago.”

Len pondered on this for a moment, thinking. Cisco was right, and maybe he really loved Barry, no matter his confused state of mind. Because Barry was something special. Even now. Has always been.

“Maybe you’re right.”

“’Course I am.”

Len snorted. “You sound awfully confident for someone who’s only five foot and six and a half inches tall.”

“Well, I’ve got to make up for my height with something, right?” He smiled broadly at him, and Len’s chest felt warm. But for the first time, it wasn’t because he wanted to kiss him. Maybe Cisco was indeed right, and he still did love Barry. Because right now, Cisco was nothing more than a good friend to him, and somehow, that was okay.

 

***

 

“So, big brother. How’s it going?”

“Peachy.”

“Uh-oh. That bad?”

Lisa leaned against the counter, crossing her arms in front of her chest, looking slightly concerned while Len kept chopping vegetables for the ratatouille dish he was making for lunch.

“Actually, I’m pretty good. The talk with Cisco has been… educational.”

“That good, huh?”

The corner of Len’s mouth twitched. “It was better than expected, at least.”

“And that means…?”

Len sighed, stopping his chopping in favor for turning towards his sister. “Cisco made me… realize some things. For one—”

“You still have feelings for Barry, no matter what you think you remember.”

“… yes.” Lisa smiled at him, he scolded. “Second, I should probably think less and start to act more upon what my heart tells me to.”

Lisa snorted, and Len couldn’t put it past her. “Geez, you’re such a sap sometimes. No wonder you and Barry get along so well.”

Len stilled. There was one thing that had worried him since yesterday evening, but he hadn’t been sure if he could voice those thoughts. “Do you… do you think he can forgive me?”

“Barry, you mean?”

Len nodded.

“Well, if one thing’s the gospel truth, then it’s that Barry loves you. He loves you so incredibly much I should be worried to get cavities, it’s that sweet sometimes. And… he understands the situation you’re in, in some way, so he’ll understand why you left last night. He might have a hard time accepting the situation as it is, but he’ll come around.” She paused and took the few steps forward until she was standing in front of him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “He loves you. And the only thing he’s scared of is that you kissed him out of pity, or that eventually, you’ll agree to be with him again, but just out of some sense of obligation. He’s scared that you could never love him back again.”

“How do you know all this?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “Barry has been crashing on Cisco’s couch last night, after all.”

Right. “But I…” He had to look away, fixing the loose screw on the cupboard above the stove. “I can’t tell him. Not yet.”

“Lenny, take all the time you need. When you’re ready, then you tell him. There’s no need to rush anything.” She rubbed his shoulder in an affectionate way, smiling at him.

Len’s never been happier to have a little sister. “Thanks, Lise.”

“You’re very welcome. Now, brother dear, I figured that you might want to get your mind… off things. What I have in mind might upset Barry again, but you two can make up later, when you’re ready, and then have the steaming sex both of you deserve.” She shook her head, her nose wrinkled in disgust. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

Len let out a laugh. “Please, do tell.”

“Well, there’s this _beautiful_ set of jewelry being shipped into town tomorrow, a set of necklace with fitting earrings and two bracelets, all made of gold and with the most glimmering gems we’ve seen for the last few months. And wouldn’t it be a shame if that would end up in a museum, all forgotten and held captive behind a glass vitrine?”

Len smirked. “It would be indeed.”

“So, what do you say?”

“We’ve had heists with less planning that have gone down successfully.”

“So that a yes, then?”

His smirk grew wider. “Of course, Lise.”

Planning the heist was fairly easy. It was an armored transport, but no additional cars driving along to ensure the safety of its contents. They’d drive on the highway right into the city, where they would meet a police squad who’d escort them to the museum, ensuring the safe transport.

Well. If everything went according to plan, there wouldn’t be much left in that van to transport to the museum.

Within a few hours, Lisa and Len had developed an as perfect plan as possible. (They had asked Mick if he, too, wanted to join them, but he and Ray had left Central City again last night with the Legends, and they wouldn’t let him go back to 2017 just so he could rob a transport vehicle. But, Len was sure, Ray would manage to calm him down again.) The vehicle would pass the eight-mile mark just outside town at seven thirty-three in the morning, which was when Len and Lisa would be waiting for them, armed with their weapons, ready to get the prey.

So far, everything went according to plan, no interruptions, no traffic jams, and the car arrived exactly on time at the spot they had made out. Getting them to stop and holding the two guards captive was child’s play, so was freezing the door of the truck open. Within no time, they had pocketed the jewelry for which they had come.

It reminded Len of the first time he met the Flash, the armored transport with the Kahndaq Dynasty Diamond. Back then, he had still used liquid nitrogen to freeze the door so he could crash it open, now, the cold gun proved to be a much better alternative. (Funny, how he had gotten the cold gun that very same day.)

The timing also hadn’t changed since then, except they had a little more time—two hundred and five seconds to be precise—from the moment one of the guards had called 911. (Which, of course they had.) But Len knew Barry would be faster, way faster than that, and that was what he was counting on.

Facing the Flash in a fight has long since replaced the rush of the game—or, it had given it that certain rush Len was so addicted to. It was the same rush he felt when he was around Barry, when he was helping out Team Flash. The same rush he had felt when he had kissed Barry.

And sure enough, not even sixty seconds later, he saw the tell-tale streak zipping towards them.

“Ready to meet your boyfriend?”

He gave her a flat stare, but she just chuckled. The guard closer to Len threw him an irritated look. Great.

Barry arrived in a rush of wind, spraying water everywhere. The friction from his running had melted the snow around his tracks.

“Cold,” he said in his… demanding voice, a voice Len had long learned to connect with him, with his raw power. “Glider,” he added, tilting his head towards Lisa.

“Flash, so glad you could join us! You feeling better? If not, I bought some chocolate to melt and gave them to Cisco. I think you raided his ice cream stash the other night.”

Barry blushed in an adorable shade of red. “Uh… thanks… I guess.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie.”

“Now,” Len chimed in and tried to keep his cool, “since you’re here, you can take over these guards for us, waiting with them for the police to arrive. We should get going.”

“You—what? You actually stole something? What the fuck, Len?”

Now both the guards looked very confused, and Len couldn’t help but smirk. But to be fair, the scene they saw was a very odd one, indeed.

“You forget that I’m still a thief, Flash. I won’t give up on that so easily.”

“But we—right. You don’t remember. Sorry, I forgot.” They both snorted at the absurdity. Lisa just kept smiling as if she was having the time of her life. “Well, you and me, we had an agreement. A new agreement, ever since you came back from the… Waverider. When we… you know.” Barry glanced at the guards, not sure what he should reveal, but Len understood him anyway.

“But as you’ve already mentioned, I don’t remember. So as long as it is that way, you’ll have to put up with me. Sorry.” He smirked, the only warning he was giving Barry before he was aiming his gun at him. Barry ducked, of course, and even if he hadn’t, Len had made sure, the beam of his gun would have missed him by a few inches.

They kept this little dance up, Len shooting and Barry dodging and swerving. At some point, Len noticed Lisa sneaking away with the loot, getting onto her motorcycle and driving away.

That was when everything went to shit.

Barry, of course, noticed her leaving, and Len should have calculated that he’d be angry at them for pulling a heist. He turned away from Len, making a beeline for Lisa— “Oh, no, you don’t”— and Len shot ice towards him, purposefully freezing the road and making it as smooth as glass, causing Barry to stumble and fall.

Slowly, Barry got up again, turning around with a murderous expression on his face.

Uh-oh.

At least he had his attention on him now, and Lisa could escape.

Slowly, in normal, human speed, Barry walked towards him. Lightning crackled around his body, making him look like the god of war the way he marched forwards. He didn’t slip once on the icy ground (Len had to give him credit for that), but naturally, all his instincts screamed at him to run away. Only he couldn’t, he was rooted on the spot.

“Do you think that’s funny, do you?” Barry shouted angrily, his voice seeming louder than usual. “First, you spend the evening with me, making me hope that there is something— _something_ —still left inside of you that still loves me. Then you _kiss_ me, making me hope even more. And then you leave, saying you’re in love with my best friend. And that you thought of kissing him while we were in _our_ apartment, sitting on _our_ couch, while _we_ kissed.” He was now standing in front of him, mere inches apart. Len could feel the hairs on his skin rise with the current running over Barry’s body and transfer onto his own.

“And now you’re here, robbing a goddamn armored truck to… what exactly? What point are you trying to prove this time? That I’m a naïve, stupid idiot? That it doesn’t matter how I feel because only you and your feelings are valid? What is it, Len, that I did that you want to hurt me so badly?!” A tear slipped past Barry’s beautiful green eyes.

The guards must look very bewildered by now.

“What? B—Scarlet, no, I’m… Lisa asked me if I wanted to do this job. Getting my mind off things and all that. I would never—I could never do something to hurt you. Not anymore.”

“Oh? And why did you kiss me then? Fully knowing that it would fucking shatter me as soon as you left?”

“I kissed you because I wanted to. I kissed you because it had felt right, you idiot!”

“And yet you stormed out, rejecting me and telling me you loved Cisco and had to think of him during the kiss!”

All in Len screamed to abort, to run, to avoid this conversation, and most importantly, not to blurt out what he was feeling, what was running through his head. But he had to learn to listen to his heart, and his heart was telling him that if he didn’t tell Barry the truth now about what was going on inside of him, all might be over. It might be too late.

So he mustered up all of his hero-ish courage and took a deep, steadying breath, locking his gaze with Barry’s and not looking away a single time.

“I… that was cruel, I know, and I’m… I’m sorry about that.” Len didn’t know when his hands had found Barry’s hips, or when Barry curled his hands around the front of his parka. “Scarlet, I… I can’t hurt you. There was a time when all I wanted was to ruin you because you were in the way, but truth is, your lightning struck me long before we got together. Someone helped me realize this, he said, and he tried to put as much emotion in his speech as possible, wanting Barry to _understand_. “Every time I close my eyes, I see your lightning. I see you. Someone recently said to me that the love I felt—the love I feel for you is still there and that I have to allow myself to feel it rather than be held captive by my mind. I should start thinking with my heart rather than just listen to what my brain is trying to tell me.”

“But isn’t your heart all frozen and ice cold or something?” Barry asked, making a noise something between a sob and a laugh.

“It is, indeed. But, you know, ice still causes lightning. And you’ve stepped into my life and caused a fucking lightning storm, Scarlet.”

“So does this mean…?”

“I know I love you. And I know whatever I think to remember concerning Cisco is not real. I just have to learn to accept that and move on. Make room for the real memories. Let myself remember how it really happened.”

Barry let out the most pitiful sob Len had ever heard in his life, tightening the grip on his sweater. “You’re such an idiot, you know that?”

“That seems to be a very popular opinion, yes.”

Barry hit his chest with the flat of his palm, laughing, another tear running down his face. “Len, I—”

But Len knew what he was going to ask, and all senses in him, and most importantly, his heart too, seemed to scream YES on top of their lungs. (Well. Maybe not their lungs. Figures.) So he took Barry’s face between his palms, pulling him forward and placing his lips on Barry’s. And it felt like the world stopped moving.

Barry’s lightning surged to life, crackling loudly, and wrapped around both of them, electrifying, shocking, breath-taking. And it was when Barry opened his mouth and their tongues met when Len felt as if one of those lightning streaks surged through him, it hit him.

And all of time seemed to stand still. The world felt as if it tilted on its axis. The sky was suddenly the ground and Len felt as if he was falling. But at the same time, he felt so grounded. And he knew. And he remembered.

Gasping, he broke the kiss, still holding Barry and looking at that beautiful man before him. “Barry,” he breathed, so quietly he nearly couldn’t understand himself.

“Len…?” Barry sounded vague and insecure, the fear of Len running away again written all over his face. But running away was the last thing he was thinking about now.

“Barry,” he said again.

“You…”

“Yes.” He surged forward and wrapped Barry up in his arms. His Barry. Every memory, every single one came floating back to him, every single precious moment he thought he had lost forever.

“Oh, Len,” Barry sobbed out, and that was the only warning he got before Barry whisked them away until he stopped inside their bedroom in their apartment.

They looked at each other, and there were no words needed. When they finally had their lips on each other again, the kiss was slow and gentle, but Len couldn’t describe how deep it felt, how sensational, how… real. He lost himself in the feel of Barry, of his body against his, his skin under his fingertips. He couldn’t stop running his fingers over those long lean lines, every curve of his body, couldn’t stop himself from kissing every single freckle and mole he could find.

And Barry kept cherishing his body likewise, tracing the scars and tattoos, kissing every spot he could reach, holding him tight and not once letting his hands stray elsewhere.

Everything else around them didn’t seem to matter because right now, the only important thing was that they were together again.

 

***

 

As soon as they had managed to get out of bed the next morning (which took its sweet time because both of them felt like they had to make up for the lost time—though, eventually, the argument that Barry did have to go to work seemed to get them out of their blissful togetherness). It had come as a surprise for both Caitlin and Cisco to see them walking into S.T.A.R. Labs cortex together, and even more so to hear that Len had regained his memories.

When Cisco had wondered out loud why Len hadn’t turned insane over the last few weeks, he had decided to pay Hermione the witch another visit (while Barry was at work). Cisco called him overly dramatic for putting on the parka, his goggles and taking the cold gun with him, but he didn’t care, not really. (Cisco had vibed him inside the metahuman wing while also taking care of the security cameras. The kid was efficient, and it was a shame all of Team Flash were such do-gooders. In another life, they’d make such lovely additions to his Rogues Gallery.)

Turns out, Hermione the witch had thought it was fun to mess with them a little, lying to them. Len should have seen that double-cross coming (and it annoyed him that he hadn’t). The actual curse with which she had apparently hit Len was called a _confundo_ curse, similar in its symptoms but entirely different in its end diagnosis. Apparently, it was normal to regain consciousness and memories of one’s reality after a certain time, and no lasting effects would occur.

“Pity I didn’t get to see you struggle,” she said spitefully. “It would have been so much fun, seeing the grand Captain Cold come to a downfall because he can’t remember who his boyfriend is.”

It took all of Cisco’s strength to hold Len back from icing her.

Apart from the witch, the guards who had seen him and Barry kiss had promised not to breathe a single word to any living soul out there. (Maybe Lisa had helped a little in that matter, pointing out how two new golden statues would make her living room look immensely prettier. Maybe.)

Then, finally, after the long hours of Barry’s work day, they found each other in their apartment.

They sat snuggling on the couch, Barry nearly sitting in Len’s lap and literally pressing himself into Len’s chest. “I’ve missed home,” Len murmured, he himself burying his nose in Barry’s neck, holding him so tight he might have to fear he’d break a rib if Barry wasn’t clutching him equally tightly.

“It hasn’t been the same without you.”

“My life hasn’t been the same without you.”

Barry chuckled and somehow managed to turn around in their tight embrace, facing him. Gently, he put a hand on Len’s cheek and caressed it softly with his thumb. “I love you, Leonard Snart.”

And looking into these large green orbs, full of love and earnestness, Len’s heart melted, and inside his chest, something was glowing warmly. “I love you, too, Bartholomew Henry Allen.”

The blinding smile that followed was enough to brighten anyone’s day. It was the smile that, so long ago, had started to brighten Len’s life, along with the beautiful man who it belonged to.

 

***

 

**_Epilogue_ **

Six hundred and seventy-eight days after The Witch Incident, Len proposed to Barry.

It had snowed heavily the days before, the entire city was covered with a thick layer of white, glittering frost. It looked beautiful, in Len’s eyes, and the calm and brilliance of it all had turned Len a little melancholic (which might also be because it was just one year after their disaster from the witch’s spell).

He had taken Barry to the small lake in the very same park where they had fought the witch (melancholic indeed), where they went ice skating. When the sun had begun to set and had turned everything in a lovely shade of orange, mixed with the somewhat blue shimmering of the snow, Len had dropped to one knee.

And Barry had immediately said yes, tears in his eyes and kissing Len as if he was the most precious thing he owned. (Barry was, for him. And he knew he was for Barry, too.) The other people in the park had cheered loudly, and Len had felt that warm glow in his chest which he had learned belonged so unmistakably to Barry, a single tear had escaped his eye.

What had started as a nightmare had turned into something beautiful, and for the first time in a long time, Len felt as if everything was going to be okay again. No matter how many obstacles would come their way, they’d fight them all, and beat them, as long as they had each other.

And even if they hadn’t, they knew they’d always find their way back to each other.

 

**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> Now, LegendsOfSnark, this is where I originally intended to add another story, taking another of your prompts (“Len and Barry announce their engagement just as Len’s mom comes back to town”), but it all proved to be too much work to get done in the short amount of time. But, if you’re interested, I might get back to this in the future when I have more time to write a sequel where we focus on Len’s upcoming drama? (Or if any of you is interested, really.) I hope you all liked this little story (especially you, legendsofsnark, as this is your present for the Gift Exchange). <3
> 
> Also, I want to apologize for any aspects of neuroscience I might have butchered, I’m only a paramedic, meaning I can tell you a lot about strokes and heart attacks and pulmonary embolisms and stuff, but very little about the brain and its functions. If any of you actually do know, please let me know? I’d love to learn more than Google and research could tell me.  
> (And, you know, Len baking and the Frozen apron are totally references to RedHead’s Tumbling Together because I’m so in love with that fic, like, if my happy place can be a fic, it would be this one. Also, I really love making references to books and fics.)
> 
> Comments and kudos are love. Yours sincerely xxx


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